


At Least They Know I Know Where France Is

by LightningInABottle



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alexander Hamilton Being an Asshole, Alexander Hamilton Lives, Alternate History, Angst with a Happy Ending, But Thomas Catches Feels, Denial of Feelings, Enemies With Benefits, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Enemy Lovers, Extramarital Affairs, Flee The Country, France (Country), Implied Sexual Content, Insecurity, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Makeouts, Period Typical Attitudes, Period-Typical Homophobia, Pining, Secret Relationship, guysss there's a lot of internalized homophobia, human disaster thomas jefferson
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-19
Updated: 2018-09-10
Packaged: 2019-03-21 10:12:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13738662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LightningInABottle/pseuds/LightningInABottle
Summary: After their affair goes public, Alexander Hamilton and Thomas Jefferson flee the country, going to the only place they can think of: France. But finally being able to be who they are has unintended consequences, such as feelings that exceed physical attraction. Feelings that are most certainly unrequited.Escaping America was easy, but escaping the ghosts that haunt them from across the ocean is more difficult.





	1. I Saved Every Letter (Unfortunately)

                  They were so careful, constantly locking doors, closing windows, checking hallways, planning excuses weeks ahead of time. Anybody else would have gotten caught within the first few months, but their beautifully similar, yet conflicting, personalities drew them together, and kept them hidden from the public eye. Two men as smart and resourceful as they were never should have had a problem hiding their affair, and it was obvious they never planned to be found out. And they shouldn’t have been. They were oh-so meticulously careful; knowing that one’s married status, and the other’s plans to run for president would be destroyed if their relationship was discovered, or worse, published. 

                   But now, eight years since their lips first met, their worst nightmare had come to fruition. Alexander Hamilton and Thomas Jefferson stood side by side, pointedly not touching each other as they stared down the newspaper on Jefferson’s desk. They had made front page news: 

 

_**PRESIDENT AND FORMER SECRETARY OF TREASURY GUILTY OF SODOMY** _

_ Just this morning, a concerned citizen who would prefer to remain anonymous, reported an illicit relationship happening inside the White House’s very walls. Of course, we would have been loathe to believe them, but they so kindly provided written proof in the form of letters that, after being analyzed, sadly confirmed our very own Thomas Jefferson was consensually participating in an affair with famous lawyer, government advisor, war hero, and former Secretary of Treasury, Alexander Hamilton. Not only are these two men guilty of sodomy, but it was also reported that their relationship had been going on for at least six years! This illicit relationship is not only a crime punishable by death, but is also adulterous, considering Alexander Hamilton is married to Eliza Schuyler, who has denied our request for comments. What makes this story even more intriguing, is the public relation between these two men. You see, Jefferson and Hamilton were political and personal enemies, and our publisher recalls many instances where Hamilton submitted essays that humiliated and soiled our president’s name, and one event where Jefferson did the same. The question remains, what fate awaits the two men? While the law does state that sodomy is punishable by death, many citizens do not wish death upon their president……. _

 

                    Their eyes stayed downcast, even though the two men had stopped reading a long time ago. They didn’t move, not meeting each other’s eyes, until Hamilton put his hand on Jefferson’s shoulder, a rare gesture of affection that made Thomas both relax and tense up. A large sigh whooshed out of him. After another moment, Hamilton finally spoke, still not meeting Jefferson’s eyes, shattering the silence, and the last moment that they could pretend that everything was normal. 

                       “Thomas, what are we going to do?” The man in question shivered, still confused at the sudden show of vulnerability his lover and nemesis was exhibiting. Normally, Alexander was cold arrogant, and sarcastically witty, not this quiet, affectionate persona. Jefferson constantly wondered what drew them together; because the pair hated each other immensely, despite their well-matched souls. Thomas was pretty sure in one of the letters Alexander referred to them as “two magnets with the north and south poles on the same side.” Namely, they wanted nothing more than to push the other person away and pull them closer at the same time. This conflicting gravity eventually ended up morphing into an obsessed infatuation on both ends, which in turn, led to the pair exchanging callous words in cabinet meetings, and exchanging saliva in private. 

                        “I do not know, Alexander. My presidential term is almost over, but the people still hold me in great esteem. The only punishment that will be enacted is the one on our legacies.” Thomas’s southern accent was shining through, something that only happened when he was too shaken up to properly restrain it. But could you really blame him? The feeling that was pumping through Jefferson’s veins was similar to realizing that he forgot an important point of an argument at the cabinet meeting right after he sat down, or when he dropped something fragile, and had only seconds to stop it from shattering into pieces.

                          “Your legacy. My legacy has already been rescued from ruin two other times. Three strikes and I am out.” Thomas finally placed what he was feeling as sheer terror, and for once, it wasn’t on his behalf. He was genuinely afraid for Hamilton, a man who he hated. Even though they were physically attracted to each other, Thomas had never once seen the other man display anything other than proud smugness and, when he was with him, passion. So Jefferson never questioned their status, whether or not they were enemies, lovers, or friends. All he knew is that they hated each other, and wanted each other at the same time, and, to his dismay, Alexander never proved him wrong. 

                             “That is not true. I still have influence, I can protect you.” He didn’t know why he was suddenly seized with a desperate urge to keep Hamilton safe. They were not emotionally connected, and the only reason they were in this mess is because his secret lover thought letters were especially romantic, and when Alexander really wanted something, he got it. Thomas suddenly remembered the conversation that had led to this mess.

_  He was sitting at his desk, meticulously going through the obscene amounts of bills Congress was sending him, when Alexander strolled in, not even bothering to knock. As soon as the door closed, he locked it, and walked over to Thomas’s desk, sitting down opposite from him, a coy smile on his face.  _

_ “Yes, Alexander?” He sighed, still suspicious of the bright glint in Hamilton’s eyes, the slightly predatory look he got when he was dead set on winning an argument. Jefferson was pretty sure he was the only one who was able to counter him, so of course he had the utmost confidence in his abilities to decline whatever outrageous proposition Hamilton offered. Unless he really was here to talk business, in which case, he assumed Hamilton was going to try to kiss the agreement out of him.  _

_ “Mr. President, I would not come to you if it were not a matter of the greatest importance.” While the man’s words were formal, his tone was coquettish and his mouth was twisted into a maddeningly irresistible smirk.  _

_ “How do you keep getting in the building? You have not worked here for years.” Hamilton winked in a way that made Thomas’s stomach twist, and his heart lurch in a way he would never admit.  _

_ “Oh, but you forget, Mr. President. Many Senators and government officials seek out my wise council.” Jefferson decided to ignore that almost all government officials hated Hamilton with a passion. _

_ “Why are you really here? The new Secretary of Treasury is a pain in the ass, he keeps sending me bills that I have to look over.”  _

_ Hamilton leaned over the desk, twisting his head to read over the paper in front of Thomas.  _

_ “Veto. The new Secretary is an idiot.” _

_ “I cannot just veto it, I have to give a reason.” _

_ “Fire him too, while you are at it” _

_ “Hamilton, no.” There was a long pause as Jefferson stared humorlessly at Alexander, trying to glare the ulterior motive from him. The Virginian waited for him to take the bait; that was Hamilton’s greatest weakness, he never could stand silence. Neither could he stand Jefferson, but that was beyond the point.  _

_ “What is your address?”The man blurted, his face flushing cherry red.  _

_ “You already know my address. God knows you’ve been there long enough.” A low blow, but Jefferson couldn’t stand the power imbalance between them. He had to do something to regain just a little bit of the ever-shifting power the two constantly fought over. _

_ “I do not have to go there. I can stop” Hamilton sneered, his voice cold and impassive as ever. That’s why Thomas loved when Alexander got frustrated to the point of yelling and waving his hands around like a maniac; at least he was showing real emotion.  A tiny twinge of hurt resonated in Jefferson’s chest. _

_ “We both know that is not true, Hamilton.” The duo glared at each other, reaching an impasse, a stalemate. They were the only people who’s wits could clash long enough to allow for a tie, another unfortunate part of arguing together. Jefferson searched his lover’s eyes, only to find the same realization take hold. _

_ “Fine, Jefferson” Hamilton said his last name like it was poisonous, something revolting,”I wanted an address that I could write you letters to, without anyone finding out. People are bound to talk if I start sending large amounts of letters to Charlottesville.”  _

_ “Letters?” The entire ordeal sounded absurd. Why in God’s name would he want to send letters. _

_ “No, I meant feathers. Yes, letters!” Alexander’s words had a certain annoyed bite to them, almost like they had after they kissed for the first time. This was important to him in some way. _

_ “I heard you the first time. But why?” Thomas had rarely seen Hamilton so worked up over anything concerning their relationship. Mostly, the immigrant tried to make the whole thing looked like it inconvenienced him, and Jefferson, never one to back down, returned the favor, leading to their rather strange partnership. _

_ “I…” Hamilton trailed off, at a loss for words. His fingers were fiddling together, his eyes downcast “I used to send letters to Eliza. Romantic letters that is.” _

_ The Virginian didn’t know what to say, considering he and Alexander’s relationship was anything but romantic. Hamilton would come over at odd hours of the night, leave before the sun had risen, and then promptly insult Jefferson anytime he saw him. That’s just how it was. There really wasn’t anything else to say, so he grabbed a spare paper, hurriedly scribbled down an address that led to a small, abandoned house that the locals believed to be haunted. Below that, he wrote “ _ **_Behind the armoire in the guest bedroom.”_ **

_ Thomas was about to hand the paper to Hamilton, when he paused. _

_ “Alexander, we might get caught. This is physical proof of our….affair.” _

_ After the words had left his mouth, Jefferson knew that the other man had already thought about this, but still wanted to do it, _

_ “I know, it is just-I just..” the immigrant fumbled for the right words, a rare occurrence,“I immensely enjoy writing, and while I understand I am not courting you as a husband may his wife, I would still find it pleasing to write to you on occasion.” _

_ “Hamilton…I do not know.” The man in question stuck his bottom lip out in a pout, and sighed. _

_ “Please, Thomas?” Maybe it was the way that Alexander’s voice cracked when he said “please”, or the soft, caring side of him that came with his usage of Jefferson’s first name, or even the expectant look in his eyes. Whatever it was, it caused the last of Thomas’s resolve to slip away, as he handed the paper to Hamilton.  _

_ The two men smiled, and, after a quick glance at the door, shared a surprisingly chaste kiss.  _

                       Dread curled and uncurled in Jefferson’s stomach like a demon flexing it's arm as he recalled that fateful conversation which ended up leading them to this. The paper, which some “anonymous citizen” had published. 

                        “You cannot protect me, considering you do not know who you are protecting me from.” While the Virginian couldn’t fathom who would want to expose his affair, he knew many that would gladly destroy Hamilton. And, considering this was the bastard’s fault, Jefferson was being very calm right now. Maybe it was just the shock, but he suddenly felt very dizzy and disoriented.

                           “Well, I am sorry that one of your many enemies followed you to the house” He sneered, moving his shoulder away from Alexander’s hand. Thomas expected a biting remark, but instead he got a soft, frustrated hiss.

                        “But who? For all we know, your “friend” James Madison got those letters. I would not be surprised if you talked all about them to him.” Hamilton’s voice got more and more tense as the sentence progressed. 

                        “James would never tell!” Who does he think he is, messing everything up, and then accusing Jefferson’s best friend of publishing that damned article “If anything, we should be looking at Hercules Mulligan. He probably saw us and followed you to the house.” Judging by the red flush that overtook Hamilton's face, the Virginian knew that he had gotten to him. 

                     “You have no right” He growled, poking Jefferson in the chest with one finger "To insult my friends.” The wild look in his eyes scared Thomas. The immigrant had lost everything, his family, his son, most of his friends, his wife, and now his legacy. A twinge of unwelcome pity shuddered through Thomas’s body, and he tactfully changed the subject. He didn't have time to throw a pity party for Hamilton. 

                      “Who, then? Adams? You certainly piss him off enough.” 

                     “He's too stupid to expose a long-term presidential affair” Alexander sneered, a small smile twisting at his lips.  Only Hamilton could smile while his life crumbled out from under him. His never-ending amusement at the most ridiculous of things drove Thomas crazy to no end.

                   “And that is exactly why he would have reason to. Who else?” A sharp, but muted buzzing filled up the room, which did nothing to soothe the terror-fueled frustration the President felt. Somebody was out to ruin the two of them, and they were doing nothing but argue and bicker about it. 

                   “Gallatin?”

                   “No motive. I would be surprised if he could walk ten paces without crumbling to dust.”

                     “Hamilton, you have got to stop insulting politicians. It’s not helping your reputation much.” Not that Jefferson cared about Alexander’s reputation, it’s just that the man’s constant jabs were tiring. It was a miracle how he ever got married, or how he got involved in two separate affairs. Three, if the rumors about Laurens were true. 

                     “With all due respect, Mr. President, my reputation has shrunk into the negatives since that article was printed, thanks to you.” 

                    “There was absolutely no respect in that sentence, Alexander.”

                    “I said” he smirked, regarding Thomas with a smugly arrogant look that was strikingly similar to that of a lazy cat. No wonder Martha Washington had named her feral tomcat after him, if the stories were to be believed. Now that he was thinking of it, there were many whispers concerning the former Secretary, of which only a handful had any semblance of truth. Hamilton continued; “With ‘due’ respect. Considering you are the reason my reputation is jack shit right now, I don’t believe you deserve my respect.”

                   “You’re acting like I am some lady of the night who seduced you against your will. I can assure you that you were very willing when I kissed you the first time.”

                      “Oh please. You, with your perfect eyes and your perfect hair and your stupid smug smile. If your political opinions weren’t the very definition of ruinous, I’m pretty sure you and I would have been on better terms. By the way, it took us gratuitous amounts of alcohol to have a regular conversation, so the lines of consent are very blurred.” Thomas’s eyes lit up; never before had Hamilton stated anything so candid about his feelings towards his lover. He intended to make the most of it. 

                    “So you think my eyes are perfect? I do not blame you, I am pretty great…” Alexander flushed dark red, opening and closing his mouth multiple times. As much as Jefferson wanted to continue this conversation, and draw as much embarrassment as possible from the other man, the universe decided otherwise. At that exact moment, a small rock hit the President’s window, bouncing off with a reverberating thud. Jefferson’s blood ran cold as he heard the vicious shouts cutting through the early morning. 

“Kill the sinners!”

“Disgusting sodomites!”

“Death to the president!’

                    The voices only grew, swelling up with rage, and spilling through the streets in a cacophony of violent screams. They were going  to kill Thomas and Alexander  just for their inexplicable affair. Another rock hit the building, not touching the fragile window panes. Jefferson glanced at the other man, only to find that his expression; wide eyes, pale skin, and a slightly opened mouth showcased the exact emotion Thomas was feeling, horror. 

                   “Hamilton! We have no time for this! We have to go, please!” He grabbed onto his arm, trying to pull him out of the office, but Hamilton didn’t budge.

                  “Who could have done it?” His voice was quiet and distant, like his mind was somewhere far away from this hellish-excuse for a morning 

                   “I do not know and I do not care, all I know is that that mob outside the White House is coming to seriously hurt us, or worse, so we better go” The former Secretary started moving at a pace much too slow, causing Jefferson to have to drag him along. A third stone hit the window, and the thin glass cracked, the fissure running like a jagged vein. 

                       “Who did we miss, Thomas? Who could have hated us both enough to do this?” Alexander pleaded, looking so desperate and helpless, it took all of Thomas’s strength to resist kissing him right there. He opened the door, right as the window imploded, shards of broken glass flying towards them. At that moment, the two men, enemies, lovers, whatever they were, made eye contact, communicating each other’s thoughts almost instantly. There was only one person with enough ambition, cleverness, and hate to pull off something as terrible as this.

                       “Aaron Burr” They whispered in unison.

                    Then Alexander Hamilton and Thomas Jefferson started running, knowing that the world would never be the same.


	2. There Is No More Status Quo

           It would have been a beautiful day, the blue, cloudless sky reflected in the small puddles on the streets from the rainy night before. Normally, the city would have been quiet, families slowly waking up, eating breakfast, and opening windows to let in warm sunshine. Thomas Jefferson would have awoken to find his lover gone, and missing the familiar warmth of another body, he would get up, taking time to prepare the part of him that America would see. The venerated Virginian President, the perfect leader of his country, definitely not a sodomite in an adulterous relationship. A sodomite who’s partner couldn’t even bother to stay the night. 

          Alexander Hamilton would awaken to Thomas by his side, and, carefully, would untangle himself from the other man. Then, after getting dressed, Hamilton would take a carriage to the law firm, early in the morning, so he could tell Eliza he fell asleep at the office. Jefferson knew the elaborate stories Alexander concocted to hide their affair from his family. But none of it worked; they were still found out, by the means of Aaron Burr of all people. It was a miracle how they hadn’t figured out his involvement earlier; he certainly hated Jefferson enough, mostly because Jefferson rid him of his job as Vice President, and Burr was horribly jealous of Alexander. It was the perfect combination, breeding a terrifying stew of revenge. Burr was the reason Thomas and Hamilton were running through the streets, disturbing the mirror-like puddles beneath their feet, and ducking around buildings to avoid the mob. 

           Instead of parents rousing their children from bed, they were trying to keep them asleep in a desperate attempt to shelter them from the truth they would inevitably hear. Another sex scandal, better than the Reynolds pamphlet, but worse for the country and it’s Christian values. Once the rest of the city woke up, gossips would quickly take over, spreading a story that got further and further from the truth, warping and twisting what really should have been simple into a complicated web of lies.  But for now, the streets were quiet, hauntingly so, only punctuated by water splashing and people yelling. 

_ Splash _

_ Shout _

_ Stomp _

_ Pant _

           Neither of them spoke, just kept running, side by side, probably the most united they have ever been, if you didn’t count their nights together. When Jefferson and Hamilton met up, it always seemed like a different world, a dreamlike state that could be shattered with the briefest movement. There, when nobody was watching, stalking,  _ expecting _ , both men became more gentle, kinder, but no less passionate. But when it was over, when Hamilton left, Thomas was left feeling confused, almost like he was drifting away from this planet without anyone to anchor him. 

           It was a strange arrangement, because neither one spoke of it after it was done. The soft, tender kisses were never mentioned, the murmurs spoken against flushed skin were never discussed. Maybe it was better they weren’t. Because Thomas couldn’t stand knowing that they were in this predicament because he expected more of Hamilton than the man was willing to give. It wasn’t always like this; Jefferson’s feelings weren’t always this confusing. There had been a simple divide between love and hate, physical and emotional. But now everything was swirled together, with some news articles and angry mobs thrown into the mix. 

          Thomas’s stomach twisted itself into knots, both from the strenuous act of sprinting through the city, and from a memory years before. Debatably, the night where the clear lines that divided him and Alexander had become blurred. Thomas didn’t remember the interview with the press, he only remembered Hamilton showing up at the White House, face red and body vibrating with rage as he screeched.

  


**_“Castration?! Castration?! You really believe that castration of all things is suitable for-for”_ ** _ Hamilton’s words had died down when he realized there wasn’t a suitable thing to call them, but picked up soon after, albeit much quieter. “For people like us” He looked so small and defeated, shoulders drooping and head hung low, that it was impossible for Jefferson to resist. Thomas sighed, and ushered Hamilton in with one arm around his shoulders, closing the door quietly behind them. It never hurt to be too careful.  _

_              “Alexander, you are shaking. Let me make you some tea.” Right after the words had left his mouth, he stiffened up, shocked at himself for using his lover’s first name. What was he thinking? It was one of the first times he had ever referred to Hamilton as “Alexander”.  _

_               Thankfully, said lover’s face remained carefully impassive as he nodded. The relief Thomas felt was coupled with a frustration that came from knowing Hamilton before. Before the Reynolds Pamphlet, before Philip, before almost everything the immigrant has worked for vanished, Alexander was a different man. More vibrant, passionate bordering on standoffish, a sharp contrast to the closed-off man he was now. Jefferson couldn't blame him, wearing his emotions on his sleeve eventually ruined Hamilton, but the guarded expressions he wore like masks ruined him in a different way.  _

_               “Tea would be nice.” As Thomas prepared it, he did his best to explain why he had said what he did to the press.  _

_                “Al-Hamilton. I’m sorry, but the public was badgering me about my opinion on sodomy, and how it should be treated. I had to say something, or else the country would quickly withdraw its support of their new president. You had already called me a ‘zealous atheist’, I couldn’t be called a sodomite as well.”   _

_                 Thomas handed a small cup to Hamilton, taking one for himself, and settling down on a small couch, still moderately amazed at how civil their conversation was.  Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Hamilton smile into his tea, probably fondly recalling the pamphlet he printed about Jefferson and his incorrect political views. The written insults Hamilton had thrown at the Virginian were infamous, and as were Jefferson’s retaliations, which were much more passive-aggressive. The rumor mill constantly surrounding Hamilton claimed that he kept clippings of the news articles in which his name was tarnished. Why-Thomas could not say. Maybe to haunt the people who slung mud at him after he died.  _

_               “You really think I, of all people, would call you a sodomite?” The full force of Alexander’s gaze was dizzyingly intense, like he was trying to draw information out of Thomas by sheer force of will. It was too magnetic, to the point of dangerous. Thomas looked away, instead choosing to focus his eyes on the empty cup of tea Alexander was holding. The way the immigrant was looking at him stirred something in Thomas’s rib cage, and he didn't like it. This needed to be stopped.  _

_              “If your political views can be compared to personal ones, yes.” Jefferson hit Hamilton on the shoulder playfully, and watched the other man squawk indignantly. Instead of reacting with barbed insults like Jefferson had expected, Hamilton smiled in a way that was almost friendly. _

_               “Are you calling me a hypocrite?” Thomas laughed, a rich, throaty sound that, until now, never had a place with Hamilton. It was strange, how a sleep-deprived and distressed Alexander showing up at Jefferson’s doorstep could alter two boundaries he had established for himself at the start of their relationship.  _

_               One, no first names; two, no showing actual enjoyment or emotion. The arrangement was working fine for Thomas, just a normal stress-reliever with someone who he, despite everything, was attracted to. But why did he feel like everything was starting to change?  _

_              “You said it, not me” Thomas chuckled.  _

_              Now they were both laughing, passing the evening with surprising ease. It was the happiest either of them had been in a long time. The entire ordeal seemed surreal, like a faraway dream. But when Alexander had stood up to leave, muttering some excuse about Eliza, a small part of Thomas's heart reached out.  _

_             “Stay” it rasped, voice hoarse from a long time spent without speaking. The newfound urge to have Hamilton around him was a frightening sensation, so different from their quick lays. Thomas knew he could ask his lover to stay, but there was no guarantee Hamilton would. And of course there was the matter of pride- was it worth having to ask him, to beg like a common whore? Like that Reynolds girl must have. And look how it turned out for her; with a pamphlet ruining any chance she had at a good social status. No, it was safer to let Alexander leave, to let him widen the gap between the two men, to push him away. _

_            Hamilton opened the door, looking back at Jefferson for a second. His face softened.  _

_          “I forgive you. For the castration thing, I mean.”  _

_          “Like I need your forgiveness, Hamilton.” As quickly as his expression relaxed, the immigrant’s face turned hard and unforgiving, like it was normally. He had worn that expression since the Reynolds Pamphlet was printed, and it only intensified after his son died. Sometimes Thomas worried that Hamilton only let his guard down around his worst enemy. That was disconcerting indeed.  _

_          “You're an ass.” Hamilton said, his words bitter and acerbic. _

_           “Likewise.”  _

_            Hamilton didn’t say anything, just slammed the door as he left, leaving a frown on his face, and a gap in Jefferson's chest. The same thing that had wanted Alexander to stay with him was now recoiled, nursing it’s wounds, quiet and hurt. “It’s for the best” he whispered to himself. Why didn't that feel true? Thomas sighed. Only with Hamilton could an evening that started with the words “Castration” give Thomas such emotional whiplash. _

          The same words now echoed through his head-space. Is that what they would do to him and Hamilton if they were caught? Would the mob of people hold him down, hands carving marks of red and blue and purple into his skin? If they interrogated him, what would he say? That he had developed an illicit attraction to his nemesis, which was, surprisingly, requited, and that their affair was purely physical, and not, in fact, an “amorous connection?” What would happen then? The thought of the ultimate reality of death loomed over Thomas, as he thoughtlessly grabbed Hamilton’s hand, hoping to get a small shred of comfort as his entire world crumbled.  It didn't help. The Virginian’s heart kicked into overdrive, only exerting himself more. 

          Jefferson could see Alexander staring at him quizzically, but not pulling away. Even as they kept running, Hamilton continued to stare searchingly at the side of Jefferson’s face to the point of discomfort. Enough was enough. Jefferson’s head whipped around to meet the other man’s eyes, opening his mouth to bark out a biting remark, but was quickly silenced when Hamilton jumped, and forcefully pressed their lips together. The kiss was messy and uncoordinated, which was to be expected in their situation, but the unexpected side of Alexander, the emotional standoffish side, reappeared, insistent and laced with passion. It made Thomas’s heart skip a beat, and while he never stopped running, he hesitated for a second. That one moment wasn’t much, but it was enough. Enough time for a cinder brick to come rushing through the air, a blur of dangerous grey aimed to hit Thomas in the forehead, instead colliding neatly with Alexander’s temple. 

             The immigrant stumbled for a second, before collapsing, crumpling like a spare sheet of paper into Jefferson’s arms. The mob was growing closer and closer, and the pounding of Thomas’s heart was deafening, drowning out even the senseless screams. Everything was spinning, weaving itself into a dizzy blur.  _ “No”  _ he thought. He had to be strong for Hamilton, whose hair was matted to his forehead, blood plastered to his too-pale face. Inhaling deeply, he threw Hamilton over his shoulder, shocked at how light he was, and started running. Again. Fear pooled in his belly, threatening to overwhelm him. Thomas shook off the despair, instead choosing to tighten his grip on Alexander’s midsection. Suddenly, a plan popped into his head, along with a destination. Thomas started running faster: there was only one person who could help him now. 

  


           “Jemmy!” After a longer than usual period of knocking, Thomas’s best friend yanked the door open, sending a twinge of fear through him. Could it be possible? Had James Madison forsaken him after reading the news? No, that was impossible. Jemmy would always stand by him. Right?

           “James?” He whispered questioningly, unsure if he could enter the residence. The cold look in James’s eyes was disturbing, and neither of them spoke as he moved aside to let Thomas in. Jefferson set Hamilton down on the small sofa in the entrance hall, glancing back up at James. Jefferson’s words were rushing out of him, he was all but yelling, because Hamilton, damn the man, had gotten hit with a brick quite obviously meant for him. And now the immigrant was injured, out cold, and gushing red. It was supposed to be Thomas. Why wasn’t it him bleeding there instead of Alexander, who looked tiny and frail, like he could fall apart any minute. 

            “Don’t stand there Jemmy, help me!” James, still silent, left, returning moments later and pressing a damp towel to Hamilton’s bloody temples. 

           “Why, Thomas?” The question was deceptively simple, too simple. James always knew what questions would trip him up, he knew everything there was to know about Jefferson’s mind and how it worked. As did Hamilton, but unlike him, Jemmy never used that information against Thomas. Until now, apparently. 

           “I do not know.” Why was Thomas saying that so much today? This entire morning had just been a whirlwind of uncertainty, fear and Alexander Hamilton. 

           “How could you not tell me? Of your affair with the man you hated more than anything…” James trailed off, swallowing for a second, collecting his thoughts and forging on “He’s married, Thomas, with children. Who gave you the right to interfere?” James’s voice increased in volume, cracking slightly as he continued. “You had a perfect future as a renowned president, but you had to throw that all away and become a-a  _ disgusting sodomite!”  _ Thomas’s eyes widened, and his heart plummeted, contracting with betrayal. This was worse than anything Hamilton could do to him.. 

             James, his best friend, the one man who had been a true constant in his life, was gone in all the ways that mattered. Was this what betrayal felt like? Thomas had loved James like a brother, so this was like his own flesh and blood tearing himself away, disowning him, leaving him to fend for himself. What did Jefferson do in a past life to deserve this? 

            “Please, Jemmy. Try to understand.” Thomas pleaded. He couldn't lose James, not after everything. James shook his head, resigned, as he left the room once more. Jefferson was seized with a sudden and irrational panic, thinking that Madison had left to alert the law. His friend came back carrying some bandages, a needle and thread, and antiseptic. Thomas shook with relief, swallowing down the lump that had formed in his throat. 

            Think of something, anything other than James and his cutting words. Not counting James, the man who currently occupied his headspace the most was unconscious because of a brick because of a mob because of a letter because of an article because of Burr. This train of thought wasn’t helping, only leading him headfirst into a path twisted by revenge and hatred. Avenging Hamilton; ha! Now those were two words Jefferson thought he’d never hear in the same sentence. 

              Despite everything, Thomas was worried about Hamilton, and even though he shouldn't have been. After all, they weren't in a true relationship. But that didn't stop Jefferson from fidgeting while his friend cleaned the blood off Alexander's head. So much red. It looked the washcloth was soaking up all the blood in the immigrant’s body, leaving him a dry husk. 

             While in France, Thomas read about many medical discoveries made there. One of which being  _ commotion cérébrale.  _ From what Thomas learned, it was an injury that came from being hit in the head with something heavy. The Virginian quickly rifled through the symptoms, checking for any red flags; but only one stood out to him. 

_  “If the patient is allowed to sleep for extended periods of time, he or she may become comatose”  _

              Thomas glanced back at Hamilton, trying desperately to convince himself that everything would be fine. He was so lost in thought that when James spoke in a voice that was barely a whisper, Jefferson flinched. James cut the string that was sewing Hamilton back together, sitting up to face Thomas. He didn't meet his eyes. 

              “…Thomas….I don't know what to say. What am I supposed to do when my best friend is a sodomite? Normally, I would stand by you, but I have a family, and a career. I can't risk being dragged down because women weren't enough for you.” James’s voice was flat, as he reached in his pockets and pulled out a small box.  “It's unnatural, what you are. Do you know that? By starting an affair with Hamilton, you sacrificed everything. Your family, your career, your afterlife. And for what? For a man who would throw you into the Potomac if given the chance.” After seeing Thomas’s outraged glare, James backpedaled. “All I am saying is that you obviously care for Hamilton more than he cares for you. And sodomy is an abomination, punished by not only the people, but God as well. I do not think I could stand by your side as you continue down this path.”

               Thomas fumed, torn between sobbing and screaming. James, his best friend, had abandoned him, called him an abomination, and embarrassment. Was it really so terrible to love who you love? To lay with who you want to lay with? Was Thomas, once again, alone? It wasn't until a tear landed on his palm did he see he was crying. James frowned, like he wanted to comfort Thomas, but did not dare come any closer. He reached his arm toward Jefferson, holding out the small box, but as soon as Thomas grabbed it cautiously, the arm retreated as if it were burned. Jefferson didn’t trust himself to respond to what Madison said, to defend himself, and Hamilton; so he said the next best thing. 

              “Why are you so afraid to touch me?” James opened and closed his mouth for a few moments, before scowling. “Just open it.” This was useless. James might not hate him, but he certainly was disgusted at the sight of Thomas and his lover, and nothing was going to change his mind. Inside were two slips of paper, rectangular and with messy scribbles spread across it. Tickets, on a ship to France. 

             “It was for me and Dolley, to go celebrate in France. But you and Hamilton need it more than we do.” Thomas was struck with silence, amazed at the one speck of good luck. 

              “France has decriminalized sodomy, has it not?” Thomas knew the answer, he just needed confirmation.

             “Yes. Yes it has.” Jefferson let out a whoop, and suddenly forgetting Madison’s perspective on sodomy, threw his arms around his friend. Well, hopefully James still considered him a friend. James never relaxed into the embrace, only patter Thomas’s back awkwardly before pulling away.

           “Jef-Thomas, there is something you should know. I do not know how this will impact our friendship. While I would like to stand by you, I am afraid I cannot do more than that.”

            “What are you saying?” Were they friends or not?

            “I’m saying that you shouldn’t expect things to be the way they are. As much as I care for you, I also care for my faith, and my faith lists sodomy as an abomination.” James smiled a watery smile. 

           “The ship leaves tomorrow morning. You and your lover can stay the night, but I expect you to be gone before I wake up.”

            “Will you write to me? In France, I mean.”

            “I cannot say, Thomas. I need time to think over this, to consider all the factors.” Jefferson supposed this is the best he would get; a friend who did not know if he should continue being friends with a sodomite. There was nothing else to say. So Thomas retrieved a blanket, settling down next to Hamilton, the small couch barely fitting them. When Thomas said he wished to spend the night with Alexander, this is not what he meant. But he supposed beggars cannot be choosers. 

            The leftover fear and adrenaline made his body heavy with exhaustion, and his eyelids drooped to a close, but before he fell asleep, he muttered one thing to his approximate-friend;

         “I do not love him. It is purely physical attraction, you know.” James laughed for a moment before replying something so quiet Thomas barely heard it.

          “I am many things, Thomas, but I am not an idiot.” 

          And even though the world was turned upside down, losing any resemblance of a status quo, James’s words had disrupted his life even more. 

_             An idiot- _ he had said. Jefferson supposed that even if the word could not be applied to Madison, it could be applied to himself. Staying around with a man who only wanted him for his body.

An idiot.

That’s exactly what Thomas was. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woo! Finished the second chapter.
> 
> James Madison will return, he kinda takes Alexander's place of being an asshole. He means well?? I guess?? Like, he's trying to be a good friend, but he honestly does not know what to do. The scene with Madison's homophobia was hard to write, but I tried my best to transfer modern-day (religion-related) homophobia to the 1800's. 
> 
> Don't you worry; once they get to France, things will get better. Marginally.  
> Ok but during this time period America legit didn't know what a concussion was. Just like Thomas Jefferson actually said castration should be used to punish/treat gays. (Honestly musical!Jefferson is 100x better than real!Jefferson)
> 
> Spoiler for the next chapter: One symptom of a concussion is short-term memory loss. 
> 
> Comments are much appreciated, I love to hear ya'lls opinion on my story.


	3. Breaking Down Like Fractions

When Jefferson peeled his eyes open, dredging himself up from the cozy comfort of sleep, he encountered a small, confusing moment of:  _ Where the hell am I?  _ Soon after, the reality of his predicament sank in. Thomas was in James’s residence, hiding from the law because Burr had finally decided to do something instead of standing there like a dithering fool. A rock was smashed through his window, he was most-likely no longer president, and his lover who despised him had run by his side as they fled from a bloodthirsty mob. Oh, and said lover, for unknown reasons, had taken a cinder brick to the head. 

Thomas grumbled incoherently as he stretched out, popping multiple joints in his body. Whilst in the process of extending his legs, he accidentally jabbed Hamilton in the side, causing the immigrant to yelp and jump up. As he flailed around in alarmed fear, Thomas sighed and decided to attribute Hamilton’s jumpiness and startled demeanor to his concussion, since disorientation was stated as a symptom. However, when Alexander turned his wide eyes to Jefferson, he immediately relaxed, slumping against the couch, which, concussion or not, was an odd reaction in itself. 

Even after they began their affair, the sight of Thomas always made Hamilton tense up more, not relax. Of course, certain occasions were exempt; like yesterday morning, and the time they drank tea together without any semblance of an argument, but moments like those were as rare as Hamilton actually agreeing with Jefferson. Their presence usually had a detrimental effect on the other, like causing Thomas to drink himself into an early grave to his best friend’s deep concern, but that memory was constantly pushed to the back of Jefferson's mind, stuffed in the deep corners of his headspace where he couldn’t mull over it. It was probably for the best, considering he had a serious overthinking problem, one to rival that of Hamilton’s.  

Thomas sat up, tilting his head to glance out the window, only to find that night had fallen upon the city. But unlike the morning, the streets were not quiet. An unnerving hum echoed through the darkened alleyways, and if he strained his ears, he could hear the stomp of footsteps and a deep voice barking commands.  _ A search party _ . Jefferson’s heart plummeted, and his blood ran cold. They needed to flee before they were tracked down and captured; because he had seen enough of prisons, and he had no desire to examine them further. Neither, he supposed, did Alexander. 

Ignoring the fear in his chest and Alexander's faint protest, Thomas pushed himself off the couch and snuck towards the window, the floor cold beneath his bare feet. Peering around the thick curtains, he was finally able to see the group of men marching through the city, torches in hand. Breathing deeply in order to steady his heartbeat, he whirled around and took one step towards Hamilton, only to stop and do a double take. 

Alexander was gaping at Thomas, his face white as a sheet and the perfect epitome of shock. His strange behavior only added to the growing list of things Thomas did not understand. He raised his eyebrows, an unwelcome surge of concern running through him. These sudden moments of actually caring about Hamilton’s wellbeing had to stop at their soonest convenience. James’s voice wormed its way into Thomas’s head, chanting “ _ idiot”  _ over and over, until even the buzzing of the search party around them faded away. Aggressively throwing the sounds to the side, he used his most dry, sarcastic voice, and drawled:

“Hamilton are you-” He never got to finish his sentence, because his lover had all but flown off the couch, throwing his arms around Thomas. The Virginian stiffened in shock, trying to wriggle out of the embrace, but the arms around his torso only tightened, and it was only after a few moments had passed that he realized Alexander was crying.

No, not crying. Sobbing. Hamilton, the man who had once punched Thomas so hard that blood spurted out of his nose, was sobbing violently into the fabric of his shirt. What was one to do in a situation as absurd as this? Pushing him away would surely offend him, but staying here, awkwardly embracing while a possibly dangerous search party tore apart the streets, would only cause more trouble. After a few moments of panicking and internally debating on the next course of action, Thomas had resigned himself to an eternity of being clung to. 

As he waited, Jefferson also pondered Alexander’s strange behavior. He was; quite literally, clingy, as if Thomas were a fragile, yet valuable piece of glass that could shatter at a moment’s notice. But what could have possibly caused it? In addition the time that Jefferson knew Hamilton, he had never once seen the man exhibit this much affection, even to his wife. So why start now? 

Thankfully, only a few minutes had passed when Hamilton relaxed his arms; only to reach up and trace the pattern of Thomas’s face, eyes still watery. His brows creased together, and he frowned, slightly pressing on the hooked bridge of his nose. 

“Your nose…” Alexander mused “It’s different” 

<The first words that Hamilton had spoken ever since his concussion were unexpected, to say the least. Thomas was fairly sure his nose had not been displaced during his frantic running, but just to be sure, he reached up and touched it. His nose was still the same, which left only one question: What was wrong with Hamilton?

Of course, his brain was shaken up; anyone's mind would have been rattled after experiencing half the things the immigrant went through. But why was he acting like Thomas was an old friend he hadn’t seen in years, and not someone he personally described as  _ “A parasite that sucks the life out of everything he touches” _

Jefferson was strongly aware of the people scouring the city for him and Alexander, and that knowledge, coupled with the fact that the two men had not yet figured out how they would sneak on the ship unrecognized, gave him enough strength to pull away. Hamilton suddenly looked hurt, and the expression on his face made Thomas’s heart lurch. To mollify Alexander, he said, 

“I’m sorry, but we have to go. We are being searched for.” The man in question did not seem to comprehend exactly what Jefferson was saying, but he nodded nonetheless, using his rumpled sleeve to wipe the remnants of his tears off of his face. The nod was all Thomas needed to start moving. 

He went to one of James’s small closets, and pulled out a canvas suitcase, pausing when he realized that he and Hamilton had no clothes to bring, or any money. Throwing the bag back in, he circled around to face Alexander, who was looking at Thomas with a starry-eyed wonder that closely resembled the stories Lafayette told of the revolution. 

“I can’t believe you are truly here.” Hamilton whispered reverently, his expression slightly unfocused. The way he was acting and speaking, as if to a completely different person, sent small tremors of fear down Jefferson’s back. Had the brick permanently damaged Alexander’s otherwise impeccable brain? If something like that happened, Jefferson would never forgive himself, especially since the brick was meant to hit him. Because Alexander without his mind was hardly Alexander at all. 

“Hamilton!” Thomas exclaimed sharply, the strain of his circumstances starting to wear on his patience. “You need to get it together. There is a  _ search party _ out in the streets willing to take justice into their own hands. And unless we leave  _ now,  _ they just might succeed.” The realization that they were currently being pursued seemed to sober up the other man. Alexander muttered a curse under his breath, and then said aloud; 

“Yes, yes. First we must escape and evade capture, everything else can come later. I’m just so glad you’re here” Thomas wasn’t exactly sure what ‘everything else’ was, but at least Hamilton was willing to cooperate. He could work with that. They could figure out what was wrong with him later, but for now, safe passage to France was the top priority.

“Since we have nothing on us, we will simply make our way to the docks, which should take about half an hour on foot. If we can manage it, I will stop by that damned bank of yours and withdraw some money. Then, we should be able to board the ship and sail, as long as we avoid being discovered. Do you understand?” Alexander nodded, chewing on his bottom lip the way he did when he was deep in thought. 

“Yes, I do” He said, a small, determined smile softening his features like a wax candle under a flame. 

Again, Jefferson felt the strange helplessness that had been showing up when Hamilton was around. It was honestly inexplicable, the effect that the immigrant had on him, as if a string was tied around Thomas’s chest that Alexander could tug at whenever he wanted. He hated it; hated feeling powerless when the entire affair had started because of his own thirst for power. His memory of the morning of their kiss and the conversation with James afterwards rose to the surface of his consciousness, but he forced it down, not wanting to remember his own naive foolishness that had led to this whole mess. 

 If their relationship was a constant fight for the upper hand, a thrilling chase for the satisfaction they were both always looking for but could never find, then why did Thomas feel like he was losing? Like he was breaking down, falling apart because of the hurricane that was Alexander Hamilton. In that moment, he was filled with a distinct, intense hatred for everything around him, including Alexander. But it vanished quickly, replaced by the realization that he hadn’t felt that hatred for the other man in a long time. How had he not noticed that before? 

Before Jefferson had the chance to mull over this new piece of knowledge, to take it apart and put it back together in hopes of coming to some sort of conclusion, Alexander looked up and met his eyes, and just that mere action rendered Thomas powerless once again. He brought his hand up to gently cup his face, feeling the soft brush of the other man’s hair against his knuckles, and leaned down so that their lips could meet.

The kiss was so incredibly tender, filled with longing, an emotion that was never, to Jefferson’s knowledge, exhibited by Hamilton. If it was any other day, any other time, then this moment would be seen as a perfect weakness meant to be exploited in every way possible. Because that’s how feelings worked in their world; meant to be torn apart and replaced with biting words and dark, rapacious eyes, equal parts vicious and alluring.

 But now, Thomas allowed himself to melt into Alexander, to pull him closer and closer until they were pressed together completely, intertwined and bound with pounding hearts and flushed cheeks. 

He wasn’t sure how long they would have stayed there, holding their breaths to prolong that one moment, but he never found out, because as he was drowning in Alexander, completely overwhelmed, he never heard the door from James’s bedroom open. Nor did he hear the sharp cough from the other side of the room. But as it turns out, Hamilton did, because he suddenly jumped away, leaving Thomas staring at his friend’s shocked expression. For a minute, there was pure silence; embarrassment and trepidation running through the air.

“Jemmy....” Thomas whispered, his mouth dry with fear. If just hearing about the affair was enough for James to turn away from his closest friend, how would he react whilst seeing it? Not well, if the pure revulsion painted across his face was to be believed. Jefferson felt incredibly stupid, knowing he should have been more careful, should have stayed away from Hamilton instead of making one idiotic mistake after the other. Those mistakes had cost him his career, his dignity, and now, his best friend. Jefferson watched his friend expectantly, waiting for him to say something,  _ anything.  _ Instead of speaking, James just averted his eyes, stating flatly; 

“Just go, Thomas. I have no desire to see  _ that behavior  _ in my house.” Jefferson’s eyes flickered to where Hamilton was standing, stunned into silence. Even though their relationship had already been discovered, the man was still instinctively afraid of being caught. Or maybe he was simply scared of Madison changing his mind and alerting the authorities. You never really knew with him, whether his motives were logical or emotional; whether his emotions were genuine or a ploy. 

Jefferson was suddenly deeply ashamed of how carried away he got when Alexander was around, as if he was a drug that completely destroyed any inhibitions Thomas may have had. And now James was dragged into this mess, having to witness something everybody knew was repulsive, when all he ever wanted to do was aid a friend in need. Thomas took a step towards Jemmy, reaching a hand towards him, quickly trying to think of something to say. But before any words could be spoken, any apologies made, James quickly flinched back, crossing his arms in front of himself protectively. 

“ _ Don’t. Don’t touch me.”  _ He said forcefully, the words lodging like bullets in Thomas’s heart. He froze, standing completely still, feeling the lump in his throat and the prickle in his eyes, knowing that that tears wouldn’t be far behind. To keep himself from crying, he clenched his hands into fists, digging his nails in and using the pain as a distraction. Even if he drew blood, he wouldn’t care, because physical hurt had nothing on the emotional agony he was currently experiencing. 

“I’m sorry..” Thomas said, sounding so feeble and small to his own ears.  _ How was I so stupid? How have I lost my best friend with one bad decision after the other? How?  _ His breaths were speeding up now, his thoughts swirling away in a whirlpool of guilt and panic. Alexander, apparently noticing his distress, placed a hand on Thomas’s shoulder, leading him towards the front door. Even though Hamilton was probably right; leaving was the best idea right now, Thomas didn’t want to walk out and have this be the last thing he ever said to James. 

But he continued to move forward, afraid of looking back, of seeing the way his best friend cringed inwards, as if trying to erase what he had just seen from his mind, or how his upper lip curled in disgust. Thomas realized he was terrified, not because of the violence waiting outside the door Hamilton was just about to open, but because he didn’t want to see his lifelong friend look at him like he was revolting, sinful, sub-human. 

Just as Alexander grabbed the doorknob, Jefferson turned around and met James’s eyes. And although the antipathy was there, it was all under a heavy layer of wistful sadness. Today, he had lost the man he used to know,  _ used to trust.  _

 “Please go, Thomas.” James said, voice quiet but firm, leaving no room for argument.  _ He doesn’t forgive me.  _ Jefferson thought, trying to hold back more tears.  _ He probably never will.  _ Honestly, who could blame him? Even Thomas knew that what he is, what he does, is wrong. It’s just that Hamilton’s magnetic pull was too strong for him to resist, especially when the full force of the man’s energy was trained on him, dragging Thomas in as he floundered helplessly.  _ You were the one who started it,  _ Jefferson’s thoughts whispered unhelpfully.  _ Your fault; your fault; your fau- _

__ Thomas nodded, all emotions leaving his body, replaced by a sudden clarity. James didn’t hate him, but he didn’t forgive him. James may be revolted but wasn’t willing to turn him in. James did not support him, but would not forsake him. 

In that moment, there were no excuses, no reasons, no pleas; just him and James, like they’ve always been. Two lifelong friends, philosophical naturalists, the leaders of the political party they had created together. Jefferson knew he had to leave behind that image in his mind, because ever since the article detailing his sodomy had been published, everything had changed, and was unfair in every regard to continue with the delusion that all would be fine, that his actions had no consequences. 

Thomas was suddenly struck by the pure irony of the situation; after all, it was James who supported him after he kissed Alexander for the first time. Of course, James really didn’t know  _ who  _ caused Thomas to get blackout drunk at a shady bar on the wrong side of town, but the sentiment was still there. And then there was the utter humiliation of knowing he was  _ so close  _ to avoiding this entire mess, if he only took James’s advice and didn’t shrug it off like the complete idiot he was.    

Jefferson remembered it so clearly, the moment he could have walked away with nothing but the distant memory of his nemesis branding him for eternity with searing lips and awakening within him a carnal hunger that would never fade, no matter how much he prayed, pleaded, or begged. But always feeling that dangerous ardor; only acting on it in his wildest fever dreams, where his vile fantasies would be made known to no one, was definitely worth not having to lose everything Thomas cared about. 

However, instead of keeping a calm and rational mind like James had advised the morning after he found the Virginian drinking himself into oblivion, Jefferson had given in to his hatred- his  _ obsession  _ which he had so vehemently denied when it was brought up, and began an affair that would later destroy his reputation and alienate his best friend, leaving him with only the company of the man he despised. 

Truly Shakespearean levels of irony.

The memory floated back to Jefferson, deceptively breezy in its arrival. It was the morning after James had found him at a bar, hoping that the bitter taste of alcohol would wash Hamilton from his mouth. At the time, Thomas was still a jumbled mess, jumping up from the guest bedroom, still in his rumpled work clothes, and attempting to leave his friend’s residence before he could say something that would give him away. He was in the sitting room when James found him, his eyebrows rising higher and higher, blissfully unaware of his friend’s guilty self-loathing, and the man that had caused it. 

  


_ “Is there any particular reason you are on your way to the door, looking like you’ve seen a ghost?” Madison’s voice called out from behind him. Jefferson froze, numerous excuses running through his head. Family emergency, meeting, goddamned nausea and a want for fresh air.  _ **_Anything but the truth._ **

_ “I have to-” He stumbled over his words, becoming extremely panicky, a far cry from his normally cool and charismatic persona. “I simply remembered I have to finish a rebuttal for Hamilton’s newest proposal.” After being met with an unbelievably skeptical expression on James’s part, he continued his lie, even as he felt dizzy, the blood in his veins running cold. “Can you believe him? I cannot comprehend the audacity of calling  _ **_me_ ** _ corrupt, all the while pushing for a pseudo-monarchy in America.” There; that should do it. James’s suspicion would be lessened and Jefferson could leave, heading to his inn where he would disappear to for the rest of eternity. Because how could he show his face outside after knowing what he had done? The grave sin he had committed in a single incensed moment? _

_ James remained silent, studying him intently as if trying to pull the truth out of him with just his eyes. Or maybe trying to communicate the failings of Thomas' logic using subtle facial cues.  _ **_Would he ask about the drunkenness?_ **

_  “You’re far too obsessed with him for your own good.” James regarded him with his signature look of exasperation and annoyance, his arms crossed and mouth set into a thin line. Thomas shook him off, trying to forget Hamilton’s burning-hot lips on his own, or how his dark eyes flickered with desire when he looked up at him through his lashes. The memory seemed to be branded onto the back of his eyelids, marking him as disgustingly deviant. But he couldn’t think of that now, not if he wanted to keep a clear head, so instead, he focused on what James had said.  _

_  Even before the recent events, their rivalry had been unusually possessive. It was like they saved the worst parts of themselves only for each other, to be unleashed during cabinet meetings in the form of painfully acerbic comments and biting words. The cutthroat, bloodthirsty side of their personality was reserved for nobody else but them, and while that may be unhealthy, surely obsession was an exaggerated way of looking at it?  _ **_But now?_ ** _ After what happened, all bets were off. _

_ “Please stay out of matters that do not concern you.” Jefferson snapped coldly, words deceptively polite, a stark contradiction to his brusque tone. Part of him knew that acting like this around James was sure to raise suspicion, and offending one of his closest friends and political allies was unwise, but uneasy guilt had settled in his chest, setting him on edge.  _

_ He refused to think too much about yesterday, because if he did, then he would never be able to stop imagining the scene in Hamilton’s office, replaying it in his mind like a sickening performance over and over, until he felt ashamed enough to vomit. Or until he was overwhelmed with the temptation to seek the bastard out and _ **_\- no no no. Stop it._ ** _ James remained blissfully oblivious to the civil war happening in his brain, which was odd because Jefferson was sure that his thoughts were being projected at the highest volume to everyone in the city.  _ **_Everybody knows what you did; they know how you wanted it; how you needed more, more, more. Everybody knows just how disgusting you-_ **

_  “Thomas” James began, interrupting his destructive thoughts from further scrambling his brain “I’m worried about you. I used to work with him, remember? He’s smart, dangerously so, and will not hesitate to drag you into his downward spiral.”  _ **_Too late for that._ ** _ James did not seem to be angry, despite being told uncharacteristically rudely to mind his own business. Instead, he seemed nervous, maybe even afraid, for Jefferson’s sake. Why; he could not say.  _

_ Unless he had somehow guessed….  _ **_no, that was impossible._ ** _ He  _ **_can’t_ ** _ know. Jefferson would take the brief moment of pure insanity in which he learned just how his greatest enemy’s mouth tasted to the grave. Because if somebody found out….not only would his political career crumble in a millisecond, but it would also be impossible to live with the knowledge that he would always be regarded as vile, repulsive, immoral. Which, Thomas supposed, he was.  _

_ Nobody who was truly a good person would do that; not one man of good moral stature could pin their rival to the door, frustrated and enraged beyond belief and-  _ **_and defile_ ** _ themselves like he had done, coasting on his violently passionate emotions and impulsivity, not quite understanding the ramifications behind his actions until much later.  _

_  “I’m afraid you forget the fact that I despise him. I would sooner shoot myself in the foot than be dragged anywhere by that man.” Jefferson said, making his voice deliberately dry and filled with antipathy, and hoped any trace of the fear he felt would be masked. James frowned, furrowing his eyebrows together. He was too perceptive, always guessing when Jefferson was lying, or even omitting the truth. What if he figured it out; just how depraved his friend was?  _

_ Paranoia was poisoning Thomas’s brain, rotting it from the inside out. But he deserved it, every second of this agonizing torture. He deserved to suffer, to tear himself in two, to always be trapped in Hamilton’s office, his reprehensible actions continuously before him. James seemed deep in thought, and when his eyes met Thomas’s, they seemed to stare right past him and into his soul.  _ **_Don’t look elsewhere, don’t fidget, don’t give yourself away._ **

_ James shifted his gaze first, chewing on his lip as he contemplated their conversation, the seconds stretching themselves into miniature eternities, warping reality. When he finally spoke, Jefferson was almost shaking with anxiety, dissolving into a terrified mess like a criminal before the jury, agonizing over what he committed while trying to keep an innocent facade. _

_ The jury was, thankfully, oblivious.  _

_ “That’s what concerns me. Alexander is a manipulator; he sees just how far you’re willing to go to destroy him, and he will use that against you in the worst way possible.”  _ **_I don’t think even you could have anticipated what happened, Jemmy, despite your belated warnings._ **

_ In his entire lifetime, Jefferson had never felt such piercing shame, the kind that cut him to his core. He felt like he was  _ **_drowning, choking, suffocating_ ** _ on his guilt to the point where he couldn’t breathe. It was as if his sin had manifested in the form of poisonous blackened tar, bubbling up sluggishly from his lungs, spilling out from his throat to the point where he had to struggle for the smallest bit of air. Despite the humiliated anger swirling around Jefferson, he still managed to plaster a painfully weak smile on his face, the lies he spoke burning like acid on his tongue.  _

_ “Your advice is noted, but I’m sure there will not be a problem. After all, I have the upper hand, so what’s the worst he can do?” Sensory details flickered behind Jefferson’s eyelids: Hamilton’s smug grin, his coffee-tainted breath, his surprisingly soft lips, the urgent fervor with which he kissed, the red color spreading across his cheeks when he gasped for breath, how his expression turned wickedly hungry, like he was ready to rip Thomas apart without even using his words. No matter how hard he tried to keep the memories out, they found their way back into the forefront of his conscious.  _

_ The fragile dam that Jefferson had tried to build up in his mind shattered, everything he had valiantly tried to keep out forcing its way back in, and for a moment, he was _ **_there-_ ** _ Alexander’s lithe frame pressed against the door, looking at Thomas in a way that was nothing short of malicious, but oh-so tantalizing, lips beckoning with their siren call that was impossible not to answer.  _

_ And then: the biggest mistake of his life. Jefferson had never wanted anything,  _ **_anyone_ ** _ that much before, and in just one second, his resolve had crumbled and he succumbed to his temptation, moving on impulse to satisfy the twisted desire that had grown inside of him ever since that night in his parlor, right after the debt assumption bargain had been struck.  _

_ Even though he didn’t think it through all the way, he certainly didn’t expect Hamilton to respond, to give an equal, opposite reaction. If he would have known just how kissing his nemesis would make him feel, he would never have come within ten paces of than man.  _ **_Or you would have done it even sooner,_ ** _ a treacherous voice in the back of his mind whispered.  _

_ Jefferson had never regretted anything more than that kiss, which had awakened a desirous, yet sickening craving within him. Now, he was consumed by the memory, constantly obsessing over their encounter; split between the part of him that wanted more, wanted to feel the frenzied passion when they moved against each other, fighting with their lips instead of with their speech, and the part of him that was nauseated, appalled by his own depraved, sinful nature. He should have known better, should have walked away while he still could have. Now, it was too late.  _

_ It only took one taste of a drug to get addicted.  _

_ “Just...promise me you’ll be careful. Use your common sense; don’t let your hate for him influence you.” James sighed, patting Thomas on the shoulder slightly, the suspicion in his bearing quickly vanishing, trickling away until not a hint of it remained. The vice grip on Jefferson’s heart loosened as he responded.  _

_ “I don’t need to promise anything, I know myself well enough” If his mouth wasn’t already blackened with lies, Thomas would have felt guilty. He didn’t know himself anymore, didn’t know the man that could do something like  _ **_that,_ ** _ and continue to dream about it-  _ **_to want it_ ** _. He was consumed by his desire, falling prey to the man he loathed with every fiber of his being.  _

_  “I hope that’s true, I really do.” James smiled, the light in his eyes far too-trusting for Jefferson’s comfort.  _ **_I’m so sorry._ ** _ He thought regretfully, even more guilt corroding his heart.   _

_  “Thank you, James. You’re the best friend I could ask for.” Thomas just wished he didn’t have to deceive him like this. But this was the price he had to pay for his actions, the cost of his disastrous inquity. For every second of pleasure he received from Alexander Hamilton, he would get eternities of pain.  _

  


As Thomas remembered his wild emotions, swinging like a pendulum between desperate hunger and intense repugnance, he also recalled Madison’s unshakeable trust in him, which he then promptly took and ruined one falsehood at a time. With this memory came a sobering realization, one that shook Jefferson to his very core, rattling the bones inside his body. 

  


It was time to let go. 

  


 “Goodbye.” Thomas said, lips tilted upwards faintly in a sad mockery of a smile, and turned back to Alexander, who was waiting, an unreadable emotion in his eyes. The immigrant grabbed onto his hand, threading his fingers through Thomas’s as if to anchor him to this world, keeping him from floating away. They walked together, into the early morning, stepping out of the house quietly, moving in perfect synchronization without speaking a word. Despite what his mind told him, Jefferson looked back. 

Right before the door closed, he saw James Madison turn away, wiping what could only be tears off his face. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back!!! After a six month hiatus, I have finally returned. There's really not much to say other than: I'm so incredibly sorry for taking such a big break, and that I plan to consistently upload my chapters. Maybe not weekly, but this story will not be abandoned.  
> I live off of comments; so please tell me what you think!

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This is the first fan-fiction that I have ever posted. I will try my best to update when I can, and I promise I will not abandon this fic. There has been a lot of research put into making this as historically accurate as possible, and in this universe Alexander Hamilton and Aaron Burr did duel, but nobody shot. This takes place about 2/3 through Jefferson's second presidential term.  
> Please please please comment: I always enjoy feedback/constructive criticism.  
> Thank you!


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